Shake It Out
by maiss
Summary: A oneshot in which Santana copes with the aftermath of 3x18, ‘Choke’.


**The aftermath of 3x18, ' _Choke_ '. **

Santana wasn't sure why the hell she was doing this, or even _what_ she was doing, to be honest. She was shuffling anxiously from foot-to-foot outside the choir room in a now silent hallway, wringing her hands together in order to quill her ever growing nerves. Inside, she could hear voices. Coach Beiste and Mr Schue were stacking the chairs together and the sound of laughter the two were sharing carried out to the hallway, lightly reaching Santana's ears.

 _This is a mistake_.

She was beginning to convince herself out of it. The conflicting thoughts were invading her mind in a way she wasn't sure she liked.

She didn't need to do this, not at all. She'd already apologised to Coach, even if it was indirectly and through a song. Either way, she'd gained her forgiveness so Santana wasn't exactly sure what she was planning to achieve from being here.

Before she could overthink the matter anymore, she found herself moving into the doorway and knocking slightly on the open door, though she didn't know why because Coach Beiste and Mr Schue had noticed her straight away.

"Your forget something, Santana?" Mr Schue queried, a frown on his features as he glanced up at the clock and noticed that school had ended a little over half an hour ago. "I found a pencil case, but it had cats on so I assumed it was Brittany's."

Santana looked up then, smiling a little tearfully at the mention of her girlfriend as she watched his figure retreat towards his office in order to retrieve the said item. "I... uh, no. I mean, I didn't forget anything Mr Schue."

He stopped in his step and for the first time noticed the way Santana was hanging by door, as if nervous to enter. He took immediate note then, of Santana's fidgeting hands, glassy eyes and slightly hunched posture. He knew something was up, and shared a look with his colleague who looked just as confused as he felt.

"Santana," Coach Beiste began warily, not at all used to this side of Santana. "Why don't you come sit down here, huh?"

She was gesturing to a small group of chairs that she was yet to stack away and Santana was grateful for the slight distraction even if it was bound to lead to a confession she wasn't sure she was ready to give.

Her heart was beating wildly in her chest as she sat opposite the woman she'd managed to upset in such an offensive way, gripping the edges of the seat with hands so firm that her knuckles were turning white. She felt like she was about to sick, and closed her eyes tightly for a few seconds in order to eradicate the feeling of nausea that had overtaken her whole being.

When she opened her eyes, Coach Beiste was watching her carefully from the seat she had taken opposite her, while Mr Schue was sat to her side with an expression of her concern on her face. He was sat backwards on his chair and weirdly, it was kind of comforting.

"I wanted to say sorry." Santana said then, her voice much stronger sounding than she'd assumed it would be. The surprise on her teachers face was evident and it made Santana anxious. She released her iron grip on the seat beneath her, before placing her hands on her lap and wringing them together as she had been doing before.

"I know you are, Santana." Coach Beiste said and she was looking at her in this way that made Santana suddenly feel as though she already knew her secret. "Is that why your really here?"

Santana blanched a little at this. Her incessant fidgetting came to a slight halt, before starting up again at a magnitude beyond what she had been doing previously.

"Yes." She squeaked out, keen to keep the tears in her eyes at bay. "I came... I came to tell you I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"I already knew that. You _know_ that I already knew that."

She was unable to look at either of her teachers and instead focused her gaze onto her white trainers which were tucked neatly beneath her seat. She was at a loss for what to say next and the situation was becoming increasingly more awkward the longer she sat their, saying nothing.

When she finally chanced a look at one of her teachers, she regretted it immediately. The look Mr Sche was giving her was enough to make Santana feel crazy for even being here.

 _This is a mistake_.

She was hardly aware of the tears which were streaming down her cheeks until Coach Beiste was handing her a tissue from the pocket of her shorts. It was used and gross but Santana was to emotional to care, so she took it from her hand and smiled weakly in her direction as a way of thanks.

"Mi Mami..." Santana began, her voice wobbly as a result of the tears clouding her whole judgement. "She's a tiny woman. Really petite, even more so than like, Berry or Sugar or... or that stupid Moon girl Rach sent to a crackhouse, you know?"

She looked up at Coach Beiste as she spoke and watched as something seemed to dawn on the older woman.

"I just think- _thought_ , I thought that she'd be able to... if she was bigger... ugh, I don't know. Mi Papi..." The words are tumbling out of Santana as sobs wrack her whole being. She's _really_ crying now, the tissue torn and useless. "I thought it would be different."

She's being bundled into Coach Beiste's shoulder then. Her head drops onto the woman's shoulder while she cries as if Coach Beiste is someone she's known forever. She doesn't think she's ever been in a position so intimate with anyone else other than her own Mama or like, Brittany.

" _I'm sorry_." Santana keeps repeating into Coach Beiste's shoulder like a mantra and at this point, even the older woman is struggling to keep her tears at bay.

She understands what Santana is trying to tell her despite her not actually saying it and the look on her colleagues face suggests to her that he understands to. Suddnely, a lot about Santana makes sense.

Minutes later, Santana's eyes are glazed over as they lock onto the floor. Her body is still being held by Coach Beiste's and when she eases herself out of the older woman's grip, she just wants to run away because now she's going to have to face the music.

"I don't know what that was." Santana finally says, her voice devoid of emotion, even though she knows exactly what she just admitted to, and she knows that they know it too.

There's a pause and Santana is so thankful for that. She isn't sure she's ready for what's surely about to come next. Mr Schue's voice is soft when he finally speaks, though, and it sets her at ease slightly. "We'll work it out together, okay?"

She nods weakly, her eyes still trained to the floor.

"When did his happen, Santana?" Coach Beiste asks. Her voice is strong and it occurs to Santana once more how this woman could ever let anyone push her around but she backtracks quickly. _Isn't that what this whole week has been about_?

Admittedly, she's a little stumped at the question. Her face is pulled into a frown as she replies. "As in, when was the last time?"

She notices Coach Beiste's face fall slightly.

It's Mr Schue that speaks first. "It's happened more than once?

Oh. _Oh_. She thought that had been obvious when she'd told them.

Clearly, her face betrays something she doesn't say aloud because Coach Beiste nods as if she understands now and Mr Schue has a hand covering his mouth in that way he always does when he's particularly upset or shocked.

"Has he ever laid a hand on _you_?" Mr Schue asks, his voice cold and angry and it makes Santana flinch.

Once again, Mr Schue and Coach Beiste must come to some sort of conclusion from the silence which they were greeted with because Coach Beiste speaks again before Santana even has a chance to process the previous question.

"What about your brothers?"

Santana head snaps up then. "No one would _ever_ lay a hand on them."

Coach Beiste smiles slightly, despite the awfulness or the situation. "No?"

"I would kill him." Santana mutters, not even registering her slip up of saying _him_ as appose to _them_.

Coach Beiste notices, though.

Mr Schue looks a little confused and Santana isn't really surprised.

"They play with my brothers kids." Coach Beiste says as a way of explanation when she to, notices her colleagues face. "I see Santana sometimes when she's picking them up."

Santana feels better almost immediately because how can she not when her brothers are on her mind? "They're just little," Santana says, unable to hide her smile. "Five and six."

For a moment, Mr Schue and Coach Beiste allow Santana to relish in her momentary happiness in regard to her brother because they _know_ it's about to come crashing down for her.

"Santana," it's Mr Schue and his voice has that serious tone to it that Santana knows means it was time to stop smiling. "We have to talk about this... about your Dad."

Santana nods. "I know that."

"You also know that... that we can't keep this to ourselves, right?"

She feels the anxiety return but alongside is an unfamiliar feeling of _safety_. "I know that, too. I just, I want them to be safe." She doesn't have to explain, they know who she's talking about.

He smiles at her and Santana actually smiles back as he rests a comforting hand on top of her own.

"Your amazing, you know that?" He says and Santana doesn't understand why, until he looks over to Coach Beiste and rests his other hand on hers. "You both are. It takes an incredibly brave person to be as honest as you both have."

Santana feels overwhelmed as she looks between her teachers and doesn't seem to have any control tears which are slipping down her face. Right in that moment, Santana felt like the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders.

When Santana looks over to Coach Beiste, she can see unshed tears in her eyes. The woman's smiling softly at Santana though, and Santana feels fresh tears prick at her vision.

"We'll be okay, kid." Coach says and Santana just nods. "Us girls? We've got this."

The older woman grabs Santana's free hand and gives it a squeeze and Santana breathes a sigh of relief because she _knows_. She knows that Coach Beiste is telling the truth.

 **Fin.**


End file.
